I waited with my mother at the admittance office on the first day of school. I was the new fifth grader. Even if I weren’t the new kid, I stuck out. There was nothing soft or round about my appearance. I was at once too much and not enough. Too much hair, sharp elbows, knock-knees, thick eyeglasses, lanky, flat chest.
Mom noticed most girls my age wore training bras. She pulled me close to her and peered down my blue first-day-of-school top. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You’re being left behind!”
I tore away mortified. Everyone within earshot heard.